Reproducing the clothing and refreshments, reconstructing specific dances, and applying nineteenth century etiquette rules to twenty-first century situations. It's all part of bringing history from the printed page into three dimensions.

About Me

I am a dance historian, costume historian, and culinary historian who is always looking for ways to bring historical knowledge to life. I have been director of The Commonwealth Vintage Dancers since 2007. I teach nineteenth and early twentieth century dance, lecture on dance history, movement, historical clothing, etc., and perform with the dance company.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Fezziwig's Ball

Frontispiece of A Christmas Carol, illustrated by John Leech

Charles Dickens was not much of a dancer, but he was a keen observer of people. His description of Fezziwig's ball in A Christmas Carol is a brilliant picture of ordinary people having a really good time.

If Scrooge were an "old" and humorless man of 45 when the story was first published in 1843, and a young and carefree clerk of 16 when he worked for Fezziwig, the ball might have taken place in 1814, and the version of Sir Roger de Coverley might have been like the one described in Thomas Wilson's Complete System of Country Dancing, 1815.

Might have been. As I said, Charles Dickens wasn't much of a dancer.

In came a fiddler with a
music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and
tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial
smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and loveable. In came the six
young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women
employed in the business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin the baker. In
came the cook, with her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the
boy from over the way, who was suspected of not having board enough from his
master; trying to hide himself behind the girl from next door but one, who was
proved to have had her ears pulled by her mistress.

In they all came, one after
another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some
pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all
went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way;
down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate
grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple
starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not
a bottom one to help them! When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig,
clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and the
fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter, especially provided for that
purpose. But scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began again,
though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler had been carried
home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a bran-new man resolved to beat him
out of sight, or perish.

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more
dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of
Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled,
and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the
evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler (an artful dog, mind!
The sort of man who knew his business better than you or I could have told it
him!) struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out
to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work
cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were
not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of
walking.

But if they had been twice as
many—ah, four times -—old Fezziwig would have been a match for them, and so
would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every
sense of the term. If that's not high praise, tell me higher, and I'll use it.
A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every
part of the dance like moons. You couldn't have predicted, at any given time,
what would become of them next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had
gone all through the dance; advance and retire, both hands to your partner, bow
and curtsey, corkscrew, thread-the-needle, and back again to your place;
Fezziwig "cut"—cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs,
and came upon his feet again without a stagger.

When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up.
Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side the door, and
shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him
or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices,
they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices
died away, and the lads were left to their beds; which were under a counter in
the back-shop.